Stradivarius
by imothelimo
Summary: Will five years apart force Carol and Daryl to succumb to their feelings for one another? Spoiler alert: They will. Based on 907 spoilers, assume show canon.
1. Chapter 1

The Present

Carol hadn't wanted to go to the party at first. Aaron had recruited a new group and invited Alexandria's allies to meet them. That didn't interest her, but Ezekiel, on the other hand, was ecstatic. They hadn't met any _live_ people in years. Even the walkers were dying out, decaying like the rotten corpses they were.

Ezekiel had persuaded her, assuring Carol that Henry would need practice leading the Kingdom on his own, seeing as he was eighteen now. He failed to mention his real motive: that he was desperate to keep up appearances. Their marriage had been doomed before it had even begun, but Ezekiel's pride wouldn't let anyone else know it.

Carol's other motive for going was Michonne. Though they saw each other as often as they could, it was good to know she had an ally to speak to, if Ezekiel's presence became too stifling.

Since Rick's death, she and Michonne had grown close, with Carol supporting her friend throughout her pregnancy. She'd tried not to remember what had happened to Lori, things were different now, and thanks to Siddiq's skills, Michonne had given birth to a healthy son.

Alexandria was also thriving. Solar panels provided the town with enough electricity to bake goods to trade with the other communities. If she hadn't left, it would've been _her_ recipe they sold, instead of Barbara's.

But Carol was glad she left. She'd never felt welcome there, not since Rick had banished her from the prison.

Even he was long dead. It had been five years. Five years since Rick died trying to end a second war against the Saviors. Five years since Maggie left to join Georgie in the Commonwealth. Five years since-

No. She can't let herself think about that.

Carol and Ezekiel are ambling through the Community Hall, where Father Gabriel is excitedly introducing the new residents. She scans the room, searching for Michonne, but she seems busy with Rick Jr. So she grabs a glass of homemade moonshine, fakes a smile, and joins her husband in acquainting themselves with Magna, a stern-faced brunette.

"We almost didn't make it," she tells them, "A few miles back, we hit this herd of stinkers," Carol nods, though her false smile is starting to hurt her face, "we tried to turn back, but we couldn't. They were everywhere. We fought back, thinking we were done for, but then this man just appeared out of nowhere."

Carol's heart quickens. She relaxes her face, concentrating her energy on listening to Magna.

"We thought we'd made him up, he was like a guardian angel, mowing down these walkers with nothing but a machete and a crossbow-"

"Where was this?" Carol interrupts, her voice high pitched with anxiety.

Magna narrows her eyes. "The interstate, I guess. In the city, but close to some, um, park. It was a few miles back."

Carol feels as if she might puke. She tries to calm her pounding heart. "Thank you," she adds weakly, desperate to put down her glass. She hurries away from Magna, shaking, needing fresh air. Ezekiel follows her out.

"He is _dead_ , Carol," the King asserts. "You cannot have whimsy because that poor maiden had a vision-"

"That wasn't a vision," she hisses. "It was _him_. I know it."

When Daryl disappeared shortly after Maggie, Carol spent years searching for him. When it proved fruitless, everyone assumed that he'd died. But she'd refused to believe it. It wasn't only because she couldn't accept losing him. She'd known, deep down inside, that he was out there somewhere. Just as she'd known Sophia was dead before she walked out that barn.

"If it were Daryl," Ezekiel catches up to her, "why would he reside so close, and yet not make his presence known?"

"I'll find out." She's practically running now. Her horse is in sight.

"You cannot leave tonight."

She reaches her horse. "He's out there, Ezekiel. He might not be tomorrow. I need to leave _now_."

He sighs. Her stubbornness and determination - two qualities that made her endearing were now starting to irritate him. Their marriage is so unstable now. It's practically a facade, but they hadn't been able to lay the foundations for it. Daryl had disappeared just days before her wedding, and in the five years that passed, Carol was often away, searching.

She spent more time hunting for ghosts than she did with the man she married.

Ezekiel had pined for her at first, but then his sorrow became frustration, so whenever Carol was away, the King would seek comfort with Luisa, Nabila's attractive apprentice.

If she chose to risk her life, to abandon her family searching for a dead man, it was only fair he sought comfort elsewhere.

Ezekiel's sure she knows about the affair. She's not stupid, but she doesn't seem to care, and that's what offends him the most. He wonders why she married him. He'd thought her elusiveness was an act. That she was just playing "hard to get", but maybe her heart was never truly in the relationship at all.

She's on her horse now, and he knows he won't be able to stop her. There was only one thing Ezekiel can say.

"Try not get yourself killed."

Five Years Before

After being hurt and abandoned by so many people in his life, Daryl never thought he'd leave.

But he never thought that he'd cause Rick's death. He never thought Maggie would abandon the Hilltop.

He never thought Carol would marry Ezekiel.

During that fall, five years ago, it seemed as if things couldn't get any worse - until they did.

The Saviors couldn't change. They started fights, ignored their posts and put a knife to Carol's throat. He'd tried to warn Rick, but he wouldn't listen, insisting they try.

They had tried. They'd tried for two years, but nothing changed. Nothing could ever change. The Saviors were inherently evil; they could never be redeemed.

Then Maggie and Daryl had found the Oceanside women taking revenge. They could've stopped it, but they chose not to. They were done playing Rick's game.

But he'd found out, and the two had argued, their fight then turning physical. They hadn't noticed a herd approaching. They both tried to escape, but Rick had been thrown from his horse and impaled on a piece of rebar.

It had been a horrible, senseless accident, and it was all Daryl's fault.

Rick hadn't long been cold when the remaining Saviors broke Negan out of his cell. That had been the final straw for Maggie. Enid was the only person she told. She took Hershel and fled to the Commonwealth, joining Georgie as her advisor.

Racked with guilt, and with nowhere left to turn, Daryl had ridden to the Kingdom, only to be greeted by an overexcited Jerry.

"Yo, dude, you heard the good news?" he'd bellowed as he opened the gates, "Carol's gonna be our Queen!"

Daryl had felt bile rise up his throat. His chest hurt.

Carol had told him the King proposed, but she'd said no.

Hadn't she?

Daryl hopped off his bike, chewing on his bottom lip in a useless attempt to calm himself down. His ears were roaring, but at least he couldn't hear the hollow happiness that filled the Kingdom. He'd found Carol in the classroom. She dismissed her students as soon as she saw him.

His eyes were drawn to the ring on her finger. Instinctively, she touched it.

"I haven't had a chance to tell you." She paused, sighing, "Henry needs a family."

He looked down, playing with a cuticle. "M'hmm."

He couldn't say anything else. He couldn't share his guilt with her. Why spoil the occasion?

Besides, Carol definitely didn't deserve a filthy, reckless redneck like him. He'd failed to save Sophia, he'd failed to find the Governor and he'd failed to save Beth. He couldn't control his temper, which had gotten Glenn and Rick killed. All he was good at was failing and killing. Carol didn't deserve that. She deserved someone better. She deserved to be happy.

So Daryl bottled his feelings, determined to try, for her. He stayed in the Kingdom for a few weeks, picking up watch shifts, hunting and teaching Henry to use a crossbow, though the thought of Carol marrying another man made him feel sick to his stomach.

He felt like an outsider, more so than he had at Alexandria. At least he'd known Carol was pretending. She wasn't pretending now.

A few days before her wedding, he'd been scavenging alone. He'd wanted to find her a gift, so he'd headed towards the capitol to see if there were any stores that hadn't yet been looted. He'd had no luck, finding nothing but walkers and rot. He was heading down an alleyway when he saw them.

Two large cylinders of liquefied petroleum gas.

They'd run out months ago, struggling with tiny amounts of corn ethanol. Daryl's bike had just enough gas to get him back to the Kingdom, but this would be enough to take him further.

He could leave, go on the road again, forget about Rick, Maggie and Carol.

She wouldn't need him, he reasoned. He wasn't stupid, he knew she cared about him. But she had a life there in the Kingdom, a family. She was happy. She'd be ok.

She'd understand.

Daryl had headed North-East. He'd never been on vacation, and he hadn't left Georgia until he went looking for Washington with the group.

There had to be more out there. Maggie had joined the Commonwealth, but that couldn't be the only civilization. So Daryl headed towards New York City, his logic telling him that if anyone was out there, they'd be around the Big Apple.

The journey was quiet, time had eroded both human and walker, and as he rode the empty highways Daryl felt more relaxed. He'd missed this, the freedom to follow his instincts instead of obeying what Rick ordered. He felt a stab of sadness, remembering his friend, and ignored it.

It took him a few hours to reach Philadelphia. The city had been blitzed like Atlanta, and the Liberty Bell lay dilapidated and decrepit on the scorched earth.

There were a few walkers about, but no herds, making it easy for Daryl as he wandered towards the Museum of Art. Despite the bombings, it was still standing in its former glory. _Rocky_ had been Merle's favorite movie, and he sat on the museum's stairs for a rest, allowing himself to miss his big brother.

He wondered what Merle would think of him now, running away because he couldn't stand to watch Carol marry another man.

"Yer a goddamn pussy, baby brother", he would've said, "ya should've told that girl how ya felt back at the prison. Yer nothin' but a no-good chicken."

Merle was right. Things had been different then. If Carol hadn't killed Karen and David if Rick hadn't banished her, if he'd told her how he'd felt as he'd planned, he was sure that _he_ would be the one marrying Carol.

Daryl allowed himself to feel the pain, the regret, as he cried, alone, on those 72 steps.

He couldn't cry for long. Startled by a noise behind him, he turned to see a tall, thirty-something African-American woman pointing a Glock 17 at his head.

The woman seemed to waver as she took in Daryl's tear-stricken face.

"Who the fuck are you?" She asked, her hands trembling on the Glock. It had been a long time since she'd seen a _living_ person.

"Don't mean no trouble," Daryl mumbled, raising his arms"Just stoppin' b'fore I move on."

"Where did you come from?" The woman continued, lowering her gun. Despite the stranger's gruff demeanor and rough appearance, he didn't seem dangerous.

"Where did ya?" Daryl shot back at her as he stood up.

"I live here," the woman holstered her weapon and gestured towards the museum. "We've got a small community inside. You're welcome to join us."

"Why?" Daryl frowned. "Ya don't know me."

"I know you're alone."

The woman's name was Aisha, and she introduced Daryl to her four-year-old, Kayla. The girl's cheeky smile instantly reminded him of Asskicker, but he ignored the painful stabs of shame and regret.

He didn't ask about Kayla's father, or lack thereof, and met Michael, an ex-dentist in his early fifties (who served as the group's medic), Maria, a young Hispanic woman with a talent for fencing, and Davey, Michael's teenage son.

Daryl stayed there overnight, thanking Aisha for her hospitality before he set off.

"Where are you heading?" she'd asked, her eyes narrowing.

"North. Gonna see what's out there."

"There's nothing out there." She folded her arms. "I grew up in the Bronx. When the Change happened, it all went to shit. Everyone in New York - black or white, rich or poor, it didn't matter, they just started killing each other." She swallowed, "I lost my family, started making my way down, thought D.C. would be safe..." She stopped as if the end of that sentence would be too painful to speak aloud.

"How many walkers ya killed?"

"Walkers?" Aisha paused for a moment before realizing what Daryl meant. "I've lost count."

"How many people ya killed?"

She recoiled. "Why? Why would you fucking ask me _that_?"

He could see it was a sensitive issue. "World's changed. We do what we gotta." He chewed his bottom lip. "Difference is knowin' _why_ we killed 'em in the first place."

"I don't understand the relevance of these questions."

"'Cause yer wrong. There are things out there." He continued to chew, "I came from Virginia. There are communities, people workin' together." He paused. "Ya could move there. Be good for yer little girl."

Aisha surveyed him for a moment. "That's where you're from?" She narrowed her eyes. "If it's so good there, why did you leave?"

 _I never fit in. I got people killed. I lost Carol._

But he can't tell her all that, so he shrugs. "Wanted to see what else was out there."

Neither of them said any more on the matter, but Daryl decided to stay with the group, enjoying feeling useful in a place where no one knew about his past. He figured that's why Carol stayed at the Kingdom. They didn't know her secrets.

A year had passed. Daryl was on watch when Aisha joined him.

"We're running low on supplies."

"Mhmm." He'd scavenged every store, every school and every hospital he could get to, and though Daryl brought fresh kills when he could, the group had run dangerously low on food, water, and medicine.

"Do you think you could introduce us to your old community?"

Daryl's blood ran cold. He couldn't answer.

Aisha had expected this. "Before the change, I was a therapist," she began. "I'm good at reading people. I know something must have happened, something bad." She paused. "I just wanted you to know I'm happy to listen if you ever wanted to talk about it."

 _I can't talk about it. I won't._ "I'll take you there," he grumbled, "but I ain't stayin'."

Daryl's LPG canisters were used up on runs, so the group left on foot. The journey through Pennsylvania was fairly quiet, besides a mild bout of food poisoning, but as soon as they left the state it all went South.

Michael developed a cough but dismissed it as nothing, powering through despite his worsening health. No one knew he had pneumonia, no one thought he might die, no one knew he'd turn in the night and devour his own son.

Maria had been on duty, but she'd panicked, fleeing as soon as Michael turned. When Daryl woke it was too late. He tried to find Maria, but she'd run into a group of walkers and suffered the same fate.

Despite the shock, Aisha, Kayla, and Daryl made it to Virginia. They were about ten miles away from Alexandria, and they'd stopped in a nature park so Daryl could hunt.

He'd been gone about an hour and returned with two squirrels, but the girls weren't there. He followed their tracks towards a lake and heard Aisha wailing. He ran towards her, stopping suddenly when he saw what was in her arms.

She was holding Kayla, but the little girl was soaked, and her skin was gray.

He felt his chest tighten as grief for the child, grief for Sophia and grief for Carl hit him all at once. His instincts soon took over as he rushed to Aisha, gently offering her his machete.

"No!" she screamed. "She's my baby!"

He chewed on his lip, trying to shake off the memory of Carol running toward Sophia when she came out of that barn. If he hadn't stopped her from getting too close…

"Ya gotta," he urged softly. "Ya want me to do it?"

Aisha shook her head, sobbing. "My baby, my baby…"

Daryl tried to turn Kayla's head closer, so he wouldn't risk hurting Aisha, but she pushed him so hard he fell to the ground. He stumbled back up, hearing a faint growl from the child.

He was too late. She'd bitten Aisha's abdomen before he could reach them.

Daryl cried as he put Kayla down, holding Aisha as she bled out. He'd come to respect her as a friend, an ally, but he'd failed her, just as he'd failed Beth and Sophia.

"S-sorry," Aisha gurgled, "I-I c-c-couldn't."

After putting her down, Daryl buried them in the woods, unable to contain his emotion. He'd been trying to save them, give them a better life, but he'd just got them all killed, just as he'd gotten Glenn killed, just as he'd gotten Rick killed.

Desperate, depressed and despondent, Daryl took Aisha's Glock. His hands trembled as he raised it against his head.

"Ya no-good, useless piece of shit!" his father's words echoed through his mind. He may as well end it now. He'd tried, for so long he'd tried. He didn't think he could take any more pain. He was nothing, a no-good nobody. He'd do everyone a favor if he just ended it now.

Daryl's finger hovered over the trigger as entire body shook. He imagined Merle, standing there, laughing at him for being a "pussy" over his "own goddamn suicide".

Then he remembered Carol. He thought of her tears when she had found him in the stables and begged him not to risk his life again.

 _I can't lose you too._

He remembers the way her smile accentuates the dimples in her cheeks and lights up her eyes. He remembers the softness of her touch and the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

 _I don't want you to die._

He envisions her stumbling into the woods and finding his body clutching the Glock. If it were reversed, if he discovered Carol had taken her own life, the thought would hurt more than all his other anguish combined.

 _I couldn't lose you._

How could he put her through that? He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Daryl dropped the Glock and continued through the woods.

He was so close to the Kingdom, but he couldn't go back, not now. His pain was too great. He needed to find somewhere where he could be alone, where he couldn't hurt anyone, where he couldn't lose anyone.

On the outskirts of the woods, he found a shack. It reminded him of the one he grew up in, and he chuckled, unable to help it, he was giddy with emotion now.

After everything he'd been through, he'd ended back where his story had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

The Present

Carol digs her heels into her stallion, willing it to go faster. The sun's beginning to set, making it even more dangerous for her to be out there alone. She holds her mace, which had recently crafted for her by Earl Rose, ready for walkers.

They're at the Capitol, just off the interstate, and she sees a sign for a nature park. _Could this be it?_

She imagines Daryl alone in the wilderness, deep in his element. She hopes he's been happy.

As she rides towards it, her mind floods with memories she's tried so hard to keep hidden.

5 Years Before

Carol had woken with an uneasy feeling deep in her gut. In a few days, she'd be married to Ezekiel.

She'd had cold feet before, with Ed, but it had been nothing like this. She wondered if she was making a terrible mistake.

Ezekiel had been kind to her, letting her live in the Kingdom. He'd made his intentions clear, flirting with her at every possible opportunity.

After they'd won the war against the Saviors, Carol had chosen to stay there. It was a fresh start, away from Rick who'd banished her at the prison, away from Alexandria where she'd never felt welcome.

Besides, Henry needed a mother, and she'd wanted to _be_ a mother again, now that she knew she was strong enough to protect him.

Ezekiel had become his father figure, and the three of them made a little family unit. Carol felt more relaxed. She felt content. She didn't just want to be alive. She wanted to _live_.

She allowed his advances and moved in with him shortly after. He was attractive, charming and kind. She could learn to love him.

She hadn't wanted to marry so quickly and only accepted after seeing how happy Henry was with Jerry and Nabila. He deserved a family, and she could give it to him.

Carol had left her bed, looking for Daryl. She'd sought him out after Ezekiel proposed, needing his approval, though she'd known it was stupid. Daryl didn't see her _that way_. He'd told her to stop flirting too many times. She'd given up on the idea back at the prison.

Still, she'd needed to try, one last time, willing him to tell her she was making a mistake, that she should be with him instead. But he'd told her he was happy for her, answering the question she'd been too afraid to ask.

Perhaps she hadn't been direct enough. She needed to know how he felt before it was too late.

Carol couldn't find Daryl in his room, and she could feel her panic building. _I should've asked him when he noticed my ring_ , she mused as she fruitlessly searched the Kingdom.

By the time she found Jerry guarding the gates, her heart was pounding, and she'd known he'd left.

"You seen Daryl?" she'd asked, aware that her voice was more high pitched than usual.

"Dude left a couple hours ago."

Carol couldn't shake the deja vu. She had the same sick panic she'd felt when Rick arrived at the prison with the news that Daryl had left with Merle.

She took a deep breath. "Did he take his bike?"

Jerry nodded. "He's pro'ly gone huntin'."

 _Maybe. Maybe not._

Carol raced to the Hilltop, wondering if he'd gone back there. Enid hadn't seen him. _Could he have gone to Alexandria?_

Aaron, who'd been on watch, never saw Daryl, but with everything that had happened, wondered if he'd needed time alone.

"He'll come back," he'd assured, "I wouldn't worry."

Carol couldn't help fearing the worst, but before she could leave, she noticed Michonne in a fit of sobs. Rick hadn't long been dead. She couldn't imagine the pain her friend would be going through.

Carol embraced her, knowing no words could lessen her grief.

"I'm pregnant," Michonne had whispered, and at that moment Carol knew she had to trust what Aaron said. She couldn't leave to look for Daryl, not now. Michonne needed her.

She'd stayed at Alexandria as long as she could, and was nearly late to her wedding rehearsal, annoying Ezekiel. She held onto the hope that Daryl would return tomorrow, that he'd make it in time for the ceremony.

As she walked down the aisle, her eyes had desperately searched for him, but he wasn't there, and Carol had known, deep down, that he'd gone for good.

The Present

Carol rides down a path, ducking down to avoid being hit by overgrown branches. The park had once been beautiful but now nature had taken over, transforming it from a place of wonder to the wilderness.

She can't spot any human tracks, not yet, but she continues down the path. She can see a lake in the distance so she heads over there to refill her canteen.

Bent over the lake, she hears growling and sees walkers in the reflection. They're approaching her horse, but she's fast, taking them out before they can touch him.

"There, boy," she soothes her stallion, who she hasn't been able to name. She hasn't wanted to grow too attached, not in this world.

Carol rides for a few more hours, searching the park for any clues. It's night now, and the trees are bathed in darkness. She shouldn't be out here alone, she knows that, but she's done it before and she'll do it again - anything if it means there's a chance she'll find him.

She finds nothing and feels her hope sink. She could cry. She thought he'd be here.

She turns back. She'll find somewhere safer to sleep, back in the city, a store maybe. It's too dark, and the trees all look the same. Her horse snorts, his ears flicking back and forth. _Danger_.

She jumps down, searching for her 38mm but she can barely see. She hears gnarling, and it's growing louder.

There are about thirty walkers approaching. She hasn't got a lot of bullets, but she needs to use them. She can't chance using her mace or her knife. She's grossly outnumbered.

Thankfully, she's a good shot, and she takes some of them out before she gets close. Her stallion nickers and jumps, knocking a few walkers to the ground, but one of them takes its chance and bites into his stomach.

Carol gasps, saddened by her loss but plunged with a new fear. She's alone, it's dark, and now she has no ride.

On the plus side, the walkers are distracted by their fresh kill, so she runs until she stumbles, having tripped on a twig. She can still hear growling, they're coming for her now, so she tries to make tracks, but her ankle throbs.

Panic grips her heart. _Shit_ , she thinks, _I'm gonna die._

She'd overcome an abusive husband, escaped the CDC moments before it exploded, survived the loss her daughter, learned how to shoot, came back from being banished, single-handedly taken down a community _and_ was crowned a Queen, but now she was going to die, alone in the woods, in the dark, trying to find a man who might not even be here.

She hobbles away as fast as she can, firing her 38mm as she moves, trying to ignore the increasing pain. If she was going to die out here, she was going to damn well go down fighting.

She's taken out half of them when her pistol clicks. She's out of ammo. She reaches for her knife, wondering how many she can kill before the inevitable when she hears a familiar _thwack_.

Maybe it's the pain, maybe it's the shock, maybe it's the excitement, for as soon as she hears that crossbow, Carol faints.

He'd spent three years alone in that shack, and though he'd carry his pain and wounds forever, the time had alleviated them. He enjoyed being alone, he enjoyed being in the wilderness.

Daryl had been fishing when something caught his eye. There were hoof and human prints in the tracks, freshly made, probably a few hours ago.

He wonders if it's the same group he saved a few weeks back, but they'd been on foot.

He follows the tracks, ignoring his rumbling stomach when suddenly he hears a gunshot.

He races towards the sound and sees a horse being devoured, but a little further on there's a woman. He can't see her face, but she's slight with long, silver hair. There's a walker scarily close to her, so he notches a bolt on his crossbow and shoots it. The woman collapses, and he worries he was too late.

Daryl grabs his machete and angrily takes out the remaining walkers before reaching for the woman. He picks her up, finally seeing her face.

It's Carol.

He wonders if it's a mirage. He's spent five years dreaming about her, perhaps he's gone crazy. But why would he imagine her with long hair? He'd always loved it short, framing her delicate face and azure eyes.

His heart's pounding as he carries her, nerves and excitement are causing a stir in his stomach. He wonders why she's here. He'd never expected to see her again.

Carol regains consciousness, her arms flailing, an instinctive reaction. Daryl grips her tighter and she remembers where she is, who she's found. His hair's longer, almost as long as hers, and his beard's thick and bushy. Beneath all that, his ruggedly handsome face and soulful eyes are distinctively Daryl's.

She's not strong enough to confront the elephant in the room, not yet. Gently, she strokes his beard and smiles. "You really need to shave."

He snorts. "Yeah, well ya look ridiculous."

He's right. She's always liked her hair short. It feels cooler and is more practical, but she was so busy after Daryl left, what with taking care of Michonne, raising Henry and looking for him, that she hadn't had time to trim it. It reached her shoulders when she asked her husband to help cut it, but he'd refused, saying her new hair made her look even more beautiful.

"Ezekiel likes it," she mutters.

As soon as he hears that name he looks down, chewing on his bottom lip. There's an awkward silence between them before Carol winces, her ankle throbbing again.

"Ya good?"

"My ankle…"

He glances down. It's swollen, but it could just be sprained. He hates seeing her in pain, so he hurries faster.

Once they arrive at the shack, he gently places her on the bed and finds her some Advil. He'd scavenged some last year, but he's been lucky. He's not had to take any.

He pours Carol a glass of powdered lemonade to take with the painkillers. They've been silent for a while now. He's imagined them reuniting so many times, but now he has her, he has no idea what to say.

"Thank you." Carol breaks the silence.

Daryl nods in response, and he can't help noticing two bands on her ring finger. She must've married Ezekiel. The reminder hurts like a punch in the gut.

"I wasn't sure I'd find you," she continues, her voice quiet with vulnerability.

He stares at her as the realization sinks in.

"Ya looked for me?"

She swallows. Her eyes look so wide, so filled with emotion.

"I never stopped," her voice breaks. "For five years, I never once stopped."

Daryl's pulse quickens. He never thought she'd look for him. He thought he wasn't needed. He thought he was doing her more harm than good, starting fights with Saviors, starting fights with Rick. If he'd stayed at the Kingdom, he would've started a fight with Ezekiel, too, if he ever caught him treating Carol badly.

The thought of her searching for him, the thought of the pain he must've put her through, the thought of his stupidity brings all his emotions to the surface and anger is the one he finds most easily.

"Ya didn't want me there!" He roars, unable to control it. He's kept these insecurities chained for too long. "Ya had yer family!"

Despite the pain, she forces herself to stand.

" _You_ were my family!" She limps over to him as her own hurt brews into anger, frustration for all the missed opportunities, frustration for the five, wasted years that they could've spent together.

"Ya the one who left!" He yells, his heart burning with his own wounds. The loss of her to another group, another man. The sorrow he felt when he hardly saw her anymore. "Ya chose the Kingdom. Ya chose the _King_."

Before Carol can respond, before she can tell him that she chose what was easy instead of what she wanted, she wobbles and is close to falling when he catches her.

Neither of them can tell who makes the first move, or whether they act in unison. They're holding each other tightly, Daryl's arms cradle her waist, her hands clutch at his neck. She's so close, she smells his familiar musky scent of dirt and sweat mixed with something else, something masculine and intoxicating.

He notices the way her azure gaze meets his as if seeing him for the first time, and he feels the heat radiating from her body. Carol lifts her chin as Daryl lowers his. Her hands glide upwards, clinging to his hair as she pulls him closer. He cups her face, relishing in its softness before their lips collide.

The feel of their tongues entwining is both new and familiar, as though they had kissed a long time ago, as though they had missed it without knowing it for years.

They don't stop to catch their breath, pausing only so that Daryl can carefully lift her off the ground and lay her on the bed. There are no words between them, yet they work as one. Carol yanks off his vest, hungry for the sight of his naked torso, hungry for the feel of it against her own naked breasts. He unbuttons her shirt, fumbling because it's been so long since he's done this, fumbling because he's doing it with _her_ , the only woman he's ever loved.

They're laid bare to each other when Daryl leans down to plant soft kisses down her neck, relishing in her gentle moans. Her legs buckle and she clutches at his hair as she pulls him closer, begging him to enter her. He's so hard, her encouragement is almost enough to send him over the edge, but he tries to focus, he wants to hold onto this moment as long as he can.

Carol's soaking wet, she's desperate for him and she cries his name as their bodies coalesce. They act in unison, each moment slow, each moment tender as they savor each other's pleasure. It's not long before they climax. Daryl realizing he can no longer fight it as Carol succumbs to her desire.

Once they're spent, they collapse into each other's arms while the realization that they've crossed a line dawns on them and threatens to drown their happiness.

There'd be no going back from this.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl wakes shortly after sunrise with his arms around Carol, holding her tightly as if their bodies were molded together. He wishes he could stay there, basking in the feel of her soft skin or the smell of her strawberry shampoo, but he can't. He feels like he's choking.

This is the first time he's had to deal with "the morning after", and he has no idea what's expected of him. Merle's leftovers usually left him straight after, as soon as they realized the sex was a waste of time, his big brother still wasn't jealous. They were junkies or trailer trash like the Dixons, and Daryl never seemed to bother. He was never really interested in them in the first place.

But Carol? She's the person he cares about most, she's his best friend, his soulmate. He doesn't know what the protocol is, and he's terrified of getting it wrong. What's even more terrifying is the fear that she'll say last night was a mistake. They hadn't seen each other in five years, and she'd been emotional. It might have meant nothing.

After all, she's still married.

Daryl tries to silence these fears as he checks his snares. He doesn't worry about leaving Carol asleep - his shack is secure, and he's had years to design traps for walkers and animals alike. He's caught a duck, and he removes it slowly, wondering how long he can stay outside before Carol panics.

He wishes he had a cigarette, but he burnt through those pretty quickly, for he's desperate for something to chew, something to distract him, for it's not just her rejection he fears, he realizes that now. He's been gone for five years, and Carol wasn't the only family he left behind.

Michonne had been grieving. He should've been there for her, but he just couldn't brave it. Supporting her wouldn't have allowed him to run from his own pain, pain from the loss of his brother, pain from his part to play in it.

Lil' Asskicker, well she wouldn't be little anymore, but Daryl reckons she can kick ass better than he could at her age. He should've been there to help raise her. It's what Rick would've wanted, and the girl he adored would likely no longer remember him.

Daryl thinks of the rest of his family and wonders how they've changed. He wonders who's still alive. They probably think he's dead, think he died a long time ago.

But not Carol. _She never stopped looking_.

His heart flutters with hope, an emotion he's not felt for so long.

"Stop pussyin' 'round," he imagines Merle sneering. "Get ya dumbass back inside and be a goddamn man."

It's the pain in her ankle which wakes her, mixed with the cold air on her skin. Daryl's not beside her. She jolts up as panic courses through her veins. She fears he's run away, and she can't lose him again. She swallows another Advil before hobbling to the bathroom. He's kept the shack pretty tidy, which surprises her, considering how messy his cell was at the prison.

She's almost finished dressing when she hears the door open. She reaches for her knife and is relieved to find it's not danger, relieved to find it's Daryl, relieved to find he hadn't left. She doesn't know how to greet him, she wants to hold him, but he hasn't been gone long, it'll just feel silly.

"Hey," she says casually, as if they were still at the prison, as if the last five years hadn't happened, as if they hadn't made love the night before.

He nods but doesn't meet her eyes. _Fuck_ , Carol thinks, _he regrets last night._

She tells herself she was stupid. Daryl had shown no interest in her. He wanted her to marry Ezekiel and last night meant nothing. He likely hasn't seen another woman in five years. It was just sex to him.

"How's ya ankle?" Daryl asks as he walks over to inspect it.

"Sore." Which is the truth, but it doesn't hurt as bad as her realization.

"Swellin's gone down," he adds, moving away from her, "pro'ly jus' sprained, but ya should rest."

She sits on the battered old couch. He doesn't join her. He remains standing and holds up the duck.

"Got us breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," Carol sighs. If anything, she's nauseous. She wishes it wasn't so awkward between them.

Daryl's desperate to hide away, to pluck and butcher the bird, but he wills himself not to. He can't run anymore. He drops the duck and sits beside Carol.

"Sorry I left," he offers before chewing his bottom lip.

She takes a deep breath as tears form in her eyes. She knows she shouldn't be upset. She left him first, and she understands why he wanted space. But he left for five years, half a decade when he was ten miles away the entire time.

"Why didn't you come home?" She doesn't mean it to come out the way it does, tinged with anger, but she can't conceal it. It wasn't just her he hurt. She remembers Michonne during labor; her tears and her pain, her refusal to give one final push because Rick could never meet their child. "Michonne was pregnant."

His stomach flips. He'd had no idea. He'd not only abandoned Judith, but he'd abandoned Rick's baby too. Besides his guilt, he remembers Lori, how they'd all tried so hard to plan for a safe birth but lost her anyway. "She ok?"

Carol smiles weakly. "She's fine. I helped Siddiq deliver." All that training for Lori hadn't been for nothing. "A healthy son. His name's Rick Jr. He's four now."

Daryl's face crumples, overwhelmed with guilt, with regret and now hope, for he so desperately wants to meet the boy. As if sensing his anguish, Carol reaches for his hand.

"You've missed a lot," she says kindly, "Rosita and Eugene are engaged, and they're also expecting-"

Daryl snorts. He can't help it, but at least he's temporarily cheered. Rosita...and Eugene? He puked on her after she tried to kill him. He never would've put those two together, but then again, he never imagined Carol would marry the King.

The thought sobers him. He glances at her ring. "What about ya?"

She sighs. "It's just for show. Ezekiel was annoyed I kept searching for you."

Daryl narrows his eyes as he breathes deeper. Something in her tone doesn't sit right. "He hurt ya?"

She shakes her head. "No, he's not like Ed, but he's not been faithful."

If the King were here, Daryl would right-hook him. "Asshole!" he snarls, his anger boiling at the man who didn't realize how goddamn lucky he was and dared disrespect her.

Carol half-smiles. "I've not been faithful, either." As soon as those words are out, she regrets them.

Daryl plays with a cuticle while he tries to find the courage to ask the unsaid. "Ain't a mistake," he mumbles, unable to meet her eyes. "Ain't for me."

Carol feels breathless. "It meant something," she says, intending to state her view, but it comes out like a question.

He meets her gaze and for the first time, she notices his eyes wander down to her lips, though it's not the first time. He's done it before, she realizes, only now she's beginning to understand.

She wonders if Daryl told her to stop flirting because he didn't know how else to react. She wonders if he told her she deserved to be happy with Ezekiel because he thought that's what she wanted.

She wonders if all this time he's wanted her as much as she's wanted him.

"What happened last night," she admits, regretting her missed chance to talk to him five years ago, "I wished it would happen. I'd given up hope."

Daryl freezes. All those times she was flirting… she wasn't joking. He shouldn't have freaked out. He thinks of all those missed opportunities, but he wonders if she always had feelings for him, why did she marry Ezekiel?

"Wanted it too," he mumbles, for he's never desired any woman as much as her, never cared about them enough to let them be happy with someone else. "What 'bout the King?"

She hesitates, recalling Ezekiel's persistence in "courting" her after the war. She'd found him extremely annoying at first, wishing he'd just go away and leave her in peace. Soon she'd seen how good he was with Henry, and given how much she wanted to be a mother again, she'd decided to accept Ezekiel's advances. She couldn't have the man she loved, so why not the King? He was attractive and kind, and at least she could pretend, playing house as she'd done with Tobin.

"I wanted to give Henry a family," she confesses, thinking of the night she accepted his ring. He'd looked so happy, and she'd wanted it to last. "He'd lost so much. So had I. I guess I wanted a family, too."

Daryl remains silent, chewing on his lower lip. Carol feels compelled to continue as emotions, which she'd spent too long trying to suppress, rise to the surface.

"Our marriage is just for show. I think he knows I was never really into the idea. Besides, I hardly spend any time with him. When I wasn't with Henry or Michonne, I was away looking for you."

"Do ya love him?" Daryl asks, unable to stop himself. His desperation to know overwhelming his instincts to hide.

She sighs because part of her does. They've spent six years together, in which they raised Henry from an angry young boy to a capable young man. She can't deny the fact that it's been difficult. They argue behind closed doors, then she spends weeks away, so he fucks Luisa.

Although Ezekiel knows she loves him, he knows she's not _in_ love with him for he knows her heart had always belonged to someone else.

She recalls coming home after two months on the road and expecting him to yell at her, but she found him sobbing instead, and that had hurt her far more.

She'd tried to hold him, tried to comfort him but he'd pushed her away.

"Why are you still choosing a dead man over me?" he'd lamented, and he'd looked so small, so sensitive. It was hard to believe the charismatic King could become so vulnerable. "I know I am your second choice, but he is gone. Could you at least try to make this work?"

The truth in his words startled her. She couldn't bear to have him believe them, so she lied. "You're not my second choice."

His anger flared. "You cannot bullshit a bullshitter. You did not marry me because you wanted to. You married me because he left."

It frightened her that he was beginning to see right through her act. " _That's_ bullshit. I said yes before."

"I am no fool, Carol!" He stood, looking taller and more like his regal self. "You never wanted me to propose. I was foolish then. I should have known, I saw the way you looked at him... as if you would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip."

She was in no mood for his Shakespeare. Her fear was transforming into rage. "Stop it, Ezekiel! I chose _you_."

"You chose me because you could not have him!"

That had been the final straw. She refused to say any more, storming out of their bedroom and leaving, again, to find Daryl.

Carol drifts back into the present and realizes that she still hasn't answered. _He's asking the wrong question_ , she muses. _It was never Ezekiel. He should be asking if I love_ him.

"No," she finally responds. "Before you left, I tried to find you, I needed to see-" her voice breaks. "I wanted you to tell me I was making a mistake."

His heart leaps into his stomach. He's stunned, just as he's always been when she's said something suggestive, but this time he fights the urge to run. She doesn't love the King, and _she never stopped looking._

"Didn't wanna," he admits, though he struggles to meet her eyes. "Thought ya were happy."

She ignores the tears in her eyes and the pounding of her heart. "I was pretending to be, playing house as I did with Tobin."

He thought she'd been happy then, too, but he'd been wrong.

"Last night," he wonders aloud, meeting her eyes, "was it real?"

She nods as a tear softly glides down her cheek. Carefully, she pulls a strand of his graying chestnut locks away from his face.

"It was."


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks later, the morning light bathes Carol in light, stirring her from her slumber.

Since their talk, she and Daryl have let their guards down, allowing their feelings to escape from the place which they'd tried so hard to lock them away.

She snuggles closer to him but is moved to laughter when his beard tickles her face.

"You need to shave," she mumbles before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

He opens one eye, raising its brow. "Will if ya cut yer hair."

She grins. "Only if you let me cut yours."

Carol enjoys the feel of his muscular arms around her body. She feels so safe, so relaxed. It's contentment, but not the type she felt with Ezekiel; where she felt as if she was living. This joy she feels with Daryl, it's the contentment where she feels her happiness has peaked. She feels as if she's _alive_.

Part of her wishes she could stay here, with him, forever, but she knows she must return. Her ankle's feeling better. It felt better days ago, but she couldn't tear herself away. Now, her guilt's starting to creep back in. Henry may be grown, but he still needs her to guide him. That's without mentioning her people, who'll be wondering where she is.

Though she dreads the thought of it, she needs to talk to Ezekiel. They can't keep pretending, not anymore. She wonders if Gabriel will grant them an annulment. That's the only way. _Let us be free to be loved by who we want_ , Carol muses, _him with Luisa and me...with Daryl._

She waits until she's finished trimming Daryl's hair. She cuts it short, close to the length it had been at the farm and reduces his beard to stubble. At last, she can revel in his face, which despite having aged considerably, was still as handsome as ever.

Carol feels a dull ache inside of her, regret for the time they could've spent together. It's been ten years since the change, ten years they've known each other, ten years they've wasted.

They'll waste no more time.

After Daryl hacks off her mane, leaving it curling at her shoulders, she finally feels ready to tear herself away from the cozy little bubble they've created.

"I should get back to the Kingdom," she sighs, taking his hand. "Come with me."

He recoils as that familiar fear squirms within his gut.

"No," he roars, instantly regretting it for he doesn't mean for his words to be so loud.

Carol doesn't flinch. She understands, meeting his eyes, she continues.

"I know you. I know you blame yourself," she reaches, again, for his hand, "but Rick's death wasn't your fault."

He freezes. He was the one who led Rick away from the camp in an attempt to stop him from getting to Maggie. He was the one who started the fight, weakening his friend. He was the one who left Rick to deal with the herd alone.

"Ya weren't there!" He shouts, refusing to take her hand. "He's dead 'cause o' me! Maybe if I hadn't ridden him there, if I hadn't left him, he'd still be alive!"

"You don't know that," she soothes. "It was an accident. It was his horse. It could've happened-"

"No!" he interrupts. "It's on me, like Beth, like Glenn…" He collapses into sobs. "Couldn't even save yer little girl."

She tries to block the memory of Sophia leaving that barn while she embraces him. He rests his head on her shoulder, continuing to cry. She feels just as broken. She hates seeing him in pain. She knows what it's like to carry guilt for too long.

"You can't blame yourself," she soothes. "Think of all the good you've done. You saved me from the farm. You saved me again in the tombs. You found all those people at the prison. You gave them a home. You gave them a chance," she pauses. "You did the same at Alexandria, helping Aaron 'till the war. You kept Judith safe." Daryl stops crying at the name, "Oh, you should see her now. She's so big, nearly as tall as me, and strong. She looks just like Lori, but there's so much of Carl in her."

Daryl lifts his head, meeting Carol's eyes. "What 'bout Rick Jr?"

Carol smiles, her heart-tugging at the realization she's cheering him up. "He's so bossy - just like his Daddy was-" Daryl snorts, encouraging her to continue. "But he's got a good heart. He's smart and kind like his Mom. That boy's going to be a great leader one day."

"Ain't s'prised." He grins, feeling fuzzy inside, the way Carol always makes him feel, like he matters like he's worth something. "Wanna meet him."

Softly, she strokes his cheek. "You will."

They leave after sunrise, heading on foot as neither have a vehicle.

"Where's your bike?" Carol asks, jokingly, as they leave the shack.

"Philadelphia," he mumbles, fighting the swarm of memories that threaten to invade his mind.

Carol notices the look of sorrow on his face, for she asks no further questions. That doesn't mean she doesn't wonder. She knows there must be a story there - and it can't have had a happy ending.

They trek through the woods in silence, meeting few walkers which are put down effortlessly. Daryl's still solemn, and when they reach the interstate Carol suddenly remembers the words that may help him heal.

"We get to start over," she offers as she holds his gaze. "You said that."

He remains silent, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Whatever happened, happened," she continues, reaching for his hand. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. If you want to forget, I'll never mention it again." She stops walking and stands to face him. "But I want us to start over. You and me, together."

Daryl wants it all. He wants to tell her about Philadelphia. He wants to allow himself to feel the pain. That's the only way he knows how to heal. At the same time, he fears it. To relive his darkest moment, to describe it to Carol, to put his pain on her, he can't. He won't.

He needs to start over, and he wants to with her and for her.

Daryl meets her azure gaze. "Ain't important. Don't matter now." With his other hand, he softly strokes her cheek. "Let's start over."

She mirrors his touch, caressing his face before drawing him closer and kissing him full on the lips. He melts into it, lost in hope and desire and love. The only thing that can break the spell is the gnarling of walkers. There are about ten of them, staggering closer. Carol pulls out her knife whilst Daryl removes his crossbow, and together they take out the undead.

By the time they reach Alexandria, his stomach's twisted itself in knots. The gates are taller, stronger, and through them, he can see happy residents wandering, though he doesn't recognize any of them.

As the gates open, Daryl feels a stab of regret, a bittersweet emotion he can't quite place. Alexandria is thriving. Since he left the windmill has since been built, along with new houses and a large building that could be a school. _Carl dreamt this_ , he muses. _So did Rick_.

A little girl hastens towards them. She looks about ten, but she carries an air of authority that makes her seem older than her years. Her long, brown locks and plaid shirt remind him of Lori, and she's wearing Rick's sheriff hat, the one he bestowed to Carl, the one he bestowed to Judith.

She's Judith.

"Aunt Carol! What are you doing here?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at the disheveled man beside her. He's vaguely familiar, yet she can't quite place him, as if she knew him once before but has since forgotten.

Her aunt smiles so wide her eyes light up. Judith's never seen her this happy before.

"I brought Daryl home," her aunt explains, beaming at the man. "Do you remember him?"

The name strikes a chord. The girl concentrates, trying to focus when the not-so-stranger, who now has tears filling his eyes, comes closer. He smells like dirt and sweat and blood, a scent she'd forgotten but now fills her head with memories.

"Uncle Daryl?" she whispers as tears prick her own eyes. Mindlessly, she wraps her arms around him, remembering him carrying her to the Hilltop, remembering him telling her stories when she couldn't sleep that night, remembering him wiping the tears that wouldn't stop because she'd just lost her brother.

Carol's crying, too, for she's overwhelmed by love. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Michonne holding Rick Jr's hand. Michonne's watching them, as still as a statue, before her face collapses, and she runs towards them.

Daryl lets go of Asskicker only to embrace his friend. "I'm sorry," he cries as he holds her. "I left ya, I shouldn't've, I didn't know-" He stops when he catches sight of the boy.

"Rick," Michonne strokes her son's curls, "this man's your Daddy's brother," she sniffs as if holding back a sob. "His name's Daryl."

He's unsure of how much love his heart can take. He absorbs the image of the boy and can only see his father. He imagines Rick Sr standing behind him.

"Ya got nothing to be sorry for, brother." He smiles. "I'm just glad ya came home."

Daryl blinks away the mirage as he bends down to shake the boy's hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Rick." He swallows. "Yer Daddy was the best man I knew."

"Will you tell me about him?" he asks gleefully, his eyes wide with wonder. "Mommy always tells the same stories."

"'Course." He smiles as he stands. "Gonna teach ya how to hunt, too."

Carol spends the night in Alexandria, though her return home to the Kingdom is filling her with dread. She longs to see Henry. She's missed him so, but she can't bear the thought of Ezekiel's reaction to her news. _I found Daryl. I want to be with him. I'm sorry._

Daryl enters the bedroom, soaked from the shower and wearing nothing but a towel. Her heart pounds at the sight of him. When he lies beside her, she turns toward him. Something's been racing through her mind, and it's desperate to be voiced.

"I love you," she whispers.

No one's ever said that to him before. Not his Mom, especially not his Dad, not even Merle. He's never had a girl, never wanted one until he met Carol.

He presses his lips against hers because he can't respond with words. Not right away, that is. He needs to feel her. He needs to release the emotions he's not felt in five years, needs to release the emotions he's never felt before.

Once he's ready to break away from her lips, he brushes a few curls away from her face and breathes: "I love ya too."

THE END.


End file.
